Personal Narrative: The Dreaded Job Interview
"You got this big guy." Finishing my personal pep talk, I take a deep breath and enter the Walgreens that looms before me. A great challenge awaits me: the dreaded job interview. With shiny dress shoes and a freshly ironed shirt, I walk down the aisles with a bounce in my step, trying to ignore the inevitability of what is coming. "This time will be different." The manager appears later as I am waiting, frantically tapping my foot in anticipation. I approach to shake her hand and the first words she utters are the very words that I dreaded. “Oh wow, you look twelve.”
I wish I could say that I did not expect it. Such a simple offhand statement, which probably meant no harm, is so similar to assumptions I hear constantly. Immature. Simple-minded.
Unathletic. Shy. In school and beyond, I am viewed as a boy trying to fill a man’s shoes. Standing at 5 feet — 5 feet 1 inch on a good day — and barely over 100 pounds, I look closer to ten than twenty. On kids eat free days this comes in handy, but unfortunately even free food cannot outweigh the disadvantages. The nuances — sideways glances, hesitant eyebrow raises, the surprised "Oh really?!" — ignite a fire of emotions. Frustration from feeling helpless while Crohn’s Disease permanently damaged my growth. Embarrassment from convincing people I am not lying about my age. Pressure from battling the societal expectations of what a man should be: big, muscular, and tall. This manager had just stoked the flame.
Suppressing my exasperation and feigning a smile, I introduce myself and walk into her office. We begin a dance I am all too familiar with. As skepticism riddles her face, she starts to ask introductory questions. Despite her initial judgements, I continue navigating the slippery slope. Back straight, eyes forward, words enunciated. I regain footing when she hears of my accomplishments: club presidencies, honor societies, academic recognitions. Soon my voice projects more, my answers elicit nods of approval, my worry disappears. The end is in sight as she asks the final question. “What motivates you in life?” I seize the opportunity to let it all out. I say that I must prove to everyone that my physical predisposition cannot and will not impede my success. People will judge no matter what, but I have the power to change those assumptions. I am more than just “a little guy.” I am the student who continually challenges himself with difficult courses; I am the class clown who cracks jokes around the lunch table; I am the dancer who performs on stages with hundreds watching. The frustration I feel fuels my determination to rise above a crowd that literally towers over me.
I stride out of the interview feeling uplifted — a David who just conquered his Goliath. A couple days later I receive a call. Hired. Relieved and overjoyed, I rush to the orientation. While there the manager commends how I changed her first impression during the interview. From a well-spoken demeanor to a firm finishing handshake, she says I carried myself like an adult. My actions speak more than my size ever can.
Every day I face the assumptions and comments based on my size. Individually, these seem trivial, but even pebbles can hurt when thrown in numbers. Despite this, I do not allow the judgements to slowly chip away at me — I fight against the degradation. I cannot control my height, but I can control whether or not I let it bring me down. I am a little man, but that cannot and will not stop me from achieving my big dreams.
I wish I could say that I did not expect it. Such a simple offhand statement, which probably meant no harm, is so similar to assumptions I hear constantly. Immature. Simple-minded.
Unathletic. Shy. In school and beyond, I am viewed as a boy trying to fill a man’s shoes. Standing at 5 feet — 5 feet 1 inch on a good day — and barely over 100 pounds, I look closer to ten than twenty. On kids eat free days this comes in handy, but unfortunately even free food cannot outweigh the disadvantages. The nuances — sideways glances, hesitant eyebrow raises, the surprised "Oh really?!" — ignite a fire of emotions. Frustration from feeling helpless while Crohn’s Disease permanently damaged my growth. Embarrassment from convincing people I am not lying about my age. Pressure from battling the societal expectations of what a man should be: big, muscular, and tall. This manager had just stoked the flame.
Suppressing my exasperation and feigning a smile, I introduce myself and walk into her office. We begin a dance I am all too familiar with. As skepticism riddles her face, she starts to ask introductory questions. Despite her initial judgements, I continue navigating the slippery slope. Back straight, eyes forward, words enunciated. I regain footing when she hears of my accomplishments: club presidencies, honor societies, academic recognitions. Soon my voice projects more, my answers elicit nods of approval, my worry disappears. The end is in sight as she asks the final question. “What motivates you in life?” I seize the opportunity to let it all out. I say that I must prove to everyone that my physical predisposition cannot and will not impede my success. People will judge no matter what, but I have the power to change those assumptions. I am more than just “a little guy.” I am the student who continually challenges himself with difficult courses; I am the class clown who cracks jokes around the lunch table; I am the dancer who performs on stages with hundreds watching. The frustration I feel fuels my determination to rise above a crowd that literally towers over me.
I stride out of the interview feeling uplifted — a David who just conquered his Goliath. A couple days later I receive a call. Hired. Relieved and overjoyed, I rush to the orientation. While there the manager commends how I changed her first impression during the interview. From a well-spoken demeanor to a firm finishing handshake, she says I carried myself like an adult. My actions speak more than my size ever can.
Every day I face the assumptions and comments based on my size. Individually, these seem trivial, but even pebbles can hurt when thrown in numbers. Despite this, I do not allow the judgements to slowly chip away at me — I fight against the degradation. I cannot control my height, but I can control whether or not I let it bring me down. I am a little man, but that cannot and will not stop me from achieving my big dreams.